Fishing Re-visited

As we are driving Eastward, the Sun, an orange orb,is slowly rising, ahead of us and my excitement is at a peak. For we are going to fish the Atlantic and I am wondering what the day will bring. I had arrived in Orlando the evening before and Jeff and I are now en route to try our hands at rod and reel to see what the waters will hold for us. Jeff is my grandson and I found has a real passion for fishing. He used to go with his step Father, who was a commercial fisherman and had begun to take Jeff out on the water when he was a youngster--thus the passion was acquuired early on. As we begin our quest a decision had been made to fish the first day by putting heavy weights on our lines and fishing the bottom--some 150 feet. The beauty of the ocean is not only the varying sea life you could view, the porpoise, the sea turtles, the schools of Dolphin just under the surface, and we saw our share, as we felt the bottom bump of our weights hoping the next bump would be a Red Snapper or a Grouper, both of which could be in the 20-30 pound class. Pure excitement mingled with hope!  It is a known fact that, indeed, hope springs eternal in the heart of a fisherman although the quest is not always rewarded with fish. On this day  our hopes were dashed with only a few small finny creatures were to stir our imaginations as we pulled them up from the deep. One of things that impressed me was the line of the horizon out to the East. The sea went on forever and it seemed as though the horizon did as well. That straight line was occasionally affected by a distant vessel but it was as though a ruler in Gods hands had been the instrument used to mark his territory. And so the day ended with little to show for it--fish wise. But ah, another day would soon dawn and we would go at it again, undaunted and positive to-morrow would be different. See what I mean when I say all fishermen are  of the same class-there is always tomorrow. However, I must admit that while we would use a different tactic the end result would be pretty much the same--no fish of any consequence. The weather, the ocean, the sights have all cooperated but the fish had taken some time off. I reminded Jeff that I had once visited Cape Cod several times with no luck until my host there had playfully informed me he had called all the charter fishermen to tell them to take the week-end off  because I had returned to try my luck. This bit of tongue in cheek humor caused Jeff to call our time, the days of the Winspear curse!! And so it was to be. I returned home to Arizona , although a bit disappointed, my many years of fishing had brought many fruitless ventures and this was another of hope being dashed. Still, my disappointment was minor compared to several points of pleasure--being on the water, seeing the various sights, spending time with a grandson with whom I had been delinquent, seeing a family that I had hardly seen before and in general having a damn good time. This adventure which could be my last in the  great outdoors.Would I do it again? Just as soon as I can pack!! Wait for me. I'll be right there.